“When I want your advice I’ll ask for it,” said Bud.
While Tullydub stood beside the throne, looking somewhat sulky and disagreeable, the door opened and Aunt Rivette entered the reception-room. She was clothed in a handsome gown of bright-green velvet, trimmed with red and yellow flowers, and the wings stuck out from the folds at her back in a way that was truly wonderful.
Aunt Rivette seemed in an amiable mood. She smiled and curtsied to all the people, who stopped dancing to stare at her, and she even fluttered her wings once or twice to show that she was proud of being unlike all the others present.
“ONE SCREAMED ‘MURDER!’ AND THE OTHER ‘HELP!’”
Bud had to laugh at her, she looked so funny; and then a mischievous thought came to him, and he commanded old Tullydub to dance with her.
“But I don’t dance, your Majesty!” exclaimed the horrified chief counselor.
“Try it; I’m sure you can dance,” returned Bud. “If you don’t know how, it’s time you learned.”
So the poor man was forced to place his arm about Aunt Rivette’s waist and to whirl her around in a waltz. The old woman knew as little about dancing as did Tullydub, and they were exceedingly awkward, bumping into every one they came near. Presently Aunt Rivette’s feet slipped, and she would have tumbled upon the floor with the chief counselor had she not begun to flutter her wings wildly.
So, instead of falling, she rose gradually into the air, carrying Tullydub with her; for they clung to each other in terror, and one screamed “Murder!” and the other “Help!” in their loudest voices.